


More Than Your Father's Son

by Lobo_Loca



Category: Sense8 (TV)
Genre: Gen, Implied Child Abuse, References to Alcohol Abuse, Scars, Wolfie is nicer than he thinks, implied PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-04
Updated: 2015-08-04
Packaged: 2018-04-13 00:59:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4501686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lobo_Loca/pseuds/Lobo_Loca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anton Bogdanow made his son a monster in many ways. This is not one of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	More Than Your Father's Son

At gone two, the U-Bahn is all but abandoned.

Wolfgang boards the last car, half out of habit, half out of a desire to be alone.  He's not very lucky on the last count, not including the seven people who pop in and out of his skull without so much as a by your leave. (They are still working on that.)

At the back of the car, a group of young drunks hoot and holler amongst themselves when not leering and jeering at the young woman near the front. She clutches her bag anxiously, staring ahead desperately, and flinches whenever one of the boys raises his voice. The jagged scarring on the back of her hand and wrist is intimately familiar. Wolfgang has some just like it.

He lowers himself slowly into the window seat across the aisle from the woman. He sits with his back to the window and keeps an eye on the drunks in the back. From their ages and shirts, Wolfgang thinks they're mostly harmless—a bunch of university students on summer holiday. The woman's bag has a pin on it with the same university logo as the shirts, but she is dressed in slacks and a dress shirt, some kind of uniform.

"I'm Wolfgang," he says, raising his voice just enough to be heard but not enough to be loud. He doesn't offer his hand or move closer.

The woman glances at him—his leather jacket, sturdy boots, worn hands, and his attempting to be friendly and non-threatening expression—and looks over his shoulder as she replies stiltedly, "Anna."

"Pleased to find someone who is actually decent company for once," he quips.

She blinks at him blankly, and Wolfgang misses Felix sharply in this moment. Felix would have some joke that would put Anna at ease, or at the very least the words to reassure her nothing is going to happen so long as Wolfgang is there.

But Felix is still laid up in a hospital under an alias so Wolfgang makes do.

"I hate drunks," Wolfgang says, turning his gaze back to the university boys. "One of the souvenirs my father left me."

There is a beat of silence.

"They are always too loud," Anna says. "Always yelling and screaming."

"Too drunk to behave; not drunk enough to do the world a favor and pass out," Wolfgang agrees.

He sneaks a glance at her out of the corner of his eye and is pleased to see her smiling. The smile is fragile and tentatively, ready to shatter the moment the drunks get too loud, but still better than her earlier expression of blank terror and panic.

They ride in silence. Wolfgang doesn't disembark at the stop near his apartment or the next three. The rowdy university boys finally get off and Wolfgang stands, glancing briefly at Anna.

Her brief smile is gone and the fear is slowly seeping back into her face.

He asks, "Would it be better if I stayed or left?"

Anna clutches her bag tightly to her chest, gaze flickering between his face and his shoulder. Her breath hitches for a moment before evening out.

"I—stay?" she asks weakly. "I think staying."

Wolfgang sits down as the doors close again, facing forward this time. "Do you have someone meeting you at your stop?"

She stares at him. "Yes, I do."

He rides with her in silence until they reach her stop. Wolfgang has a long walk back to his apartment, which he doesn't look forward too.

He lets her get off first, and then heads straight for the exit. He pauses at the bottom of the stairs, glancing back. Anna stands on the middle of the empty platform, bag over her shoulder, practically shaking and obviously alone.

Wolfgang is unsurprised.

He stands there, torn. He wants to offer to walk her home but he also doesn't want to frighten her. No woman would want a stranger like Wolfgang to walk her home.

"You alright to get home?" he calls.

Anna flinches as his question echoes across the platform, and turns towards him. She watches him for several moments, shoulders drawn high and tight. They don't relax even as she slowly walks towards him, admitting, "No."

She stops five feet to his left, staring at his chin, and he asks, "Which way?"

Anna gives him directions and they walk in silence, five feet between them. He walks her all the way to the door of her building, watches as she opens the front door, and turns to leave.

"What's your real name?" Anna asks behind him.

Wolfgang huffs. "You're not the first to ask that, you know. The answer's still the same, Wolfgang."

"Well, thank you, Wolfgang," she says. "Good night." The door clangs closed behind her.

Wolfgang walks home.


End file.
